


i'll lend you myself

by ChemicallyEnhanced



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: I just want to give Seven hugs, Yoosung is super comforting, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemicallyEnhanced/pseuds/ChemicallyEnhanced
Summary: Seven finds support in Yoosung during difficult times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i am very fascinated about Seven's character. the music i listened to was shin yong jae "lean on" on repeat, so if you want to get into the mood...  
> also i apologize if i depicted depression inaccurately. :x

Sometimes when Seven finds himself actually waking up in a bed, he doesn’t want to move. His limbs feel heavy and his breaths come out in long, burdensome exhales. On days like these, all he wants to do is lie still and stare at the ceiling, pretending that he doesn’t have a million things to do only to enter another failed search for his missing brother, for Saeran. Even the name is enough to force a slew of memories to crop up beneath his eyelids, of secret prayers at church, of seeing bruises all over pale arms and legs.

 _Ah…_ he muses, eyes creaking open to the subtle light of early morning. _It’s going to be another one of those days, is it?_

He shivers but can’t find the strength to pull the blankets over himself. He really should. Getting a cold as 707 would not be a good idea, especially since Vanderwood is breathing down his neck about his most recent project from the agency. The project…he should get his ass up and work on that.

_Should…but I don’t think I can right now._

It’s disheartening, not having the motivation to do anything while simultaneously losing his interest in things that would normally bring his spirits right up. Well…just enough to keep him from hurtling into his current state, anyways. Right now, even Honey Buddha chips sound disgusting to him and thinking about Elly only irritates his thoughts. _Coding…I like doing that, right?_

He finds himself gazing out the window as if he can discover the answer to his question, watching the sun slowly make its ascent in the sky and paint the rest of the world in the muted shades of dawn. It’s pretty, but it doesn’t catch his attention, much like everything else orbiting his life right now. Orbiting—sending his heart up to space seems like the proper course of action right now, though it might worry the others in the RFA. They always comment, _Seven, you’re not yourself right now_ or _Luciel’s not gushing over that furball? That’s weird,_ whenever he gets like this.

His eyes itch, they burn with…something, something like the unexpressed emotion that he’s wanted to show to the people who care about him, who he—against his choice—ultimately cares about as well. Good thing Vanderwood and the rest of the agency don’t know. The amusing thought doesn’t even cause a spark within him as he lies on his bed, wanting to sink into it and disappear.

 _If only I could just go away right now and be away from everyone, everything._ Often, he wishes for this, but with definite retribution should he go forward with this insane thought, he lets it pass until he thinks of it again, in the fading light of day when everything seems so uncertain, so hazy, and for one of the many times in his life he feels…alone. Small. Insignificant. Sure, he’s important to the RFA members; he keeps them safe and provides them with the security they need—but…it still doesn’t keep him from having these kinds of thoughts, from curling up into himself and feeling that hollow, aching _thing_ in his chest, screaming with its want to be heard, to be recognized and paid attention to and…loved.

Being loved sounds great. It…really does.

Seven closes his eyes and resigns himself to crying until all these bottled-up emotions are let out when he hears a notification from his security system that someone is at his front step. Going over to his laptop to check who it might be—out of only a few people who could get past the first line of his system—is impossible for him, so he settles for calling out, in a cracked voice that doesn’t sound like his own, “Hey, who’s at the door?”

His A.I. system immediately turns on with a chime, and in the next second answers, “It appears to be Yoosung Kim, someone whom I recognize to be, status: friendly. Shall I withdraw?”

With a tiny sigh, Seven orders, “Yes.” The A.I. retracts into the recesses of wires and technology hiding within every space of his home. Out of all the times Yoosung decides to pay him a visit, it’s now, when he doesn’t even want to _move_ , let alone talk and make sure nothing seems suspicious with his attitude today. Suspicion causes Yoosung to ask—many—question, and Seven can’t handle any of those right now.

Still, Yoosung recites the correct Arabic reply to the security system’s request, and he steps in—apparently Seven’s own A.I. understands that he is in a state of rest, thus opening the door without his needing to walk over. _I must be so smart to be able to build this._ It sounds arrogant, but carried with it is a nuance of wonder and melancholy at his current condition.

“Seven!” he hears Yoosung shout through his half-open bedroom door. Later, he will thank himself for not closing it all the way, but now, he only wants to hide so the other male will not find him. “Seven?”

 _Please don’t walk through this door, please don’t come in here, you should not see me like this, I don’t deserve your concern, please, please…_ is what Seven repeats in his mind like a chant, but even so, he can see Yoosung’s blond hair right in the doorway, and then Yoosung’s typical blue hoodie, and then all of Yoosung is standing in his bedroom.

“Seven, hey! I was trying to find you,” Yoosung greets with a kind smile. His hands are in his pockets. “What’re you doing in here, anyways? Don’t you have work to do?” Yoosung continues as he shuffles farther into the room, closer to where Seven is lying like some hospital patient. Maybe he is. He could probably get some medication for his…problems.

“Seven? Hey, are you ok? You look kind of pale.” Now Yoosung is worried, there’s that concern flooding his purple eyes as easily as if it were just adding 1+1. Why does Yoosung care about him so much? He shouldn’t. Not with…everything Seven is.

He tries a smile but finds that he can’t even lift the corners of his mouth. Seeing someone he knows lets him muster up some energy into a sitting position, at least. “I’m ok, Yoosung.” It’s far from the truth, and it weighs on him like a boulder, but it is the only way to keep the other from questioning him more.

Yoosung’s mouth thins into a straight line. He looks angry. Of course he’s angry, why wouldn’t he be, Seven’s always lying to him and to everyone and…and—in the next moment, Yoosung is sitting next to him on the bed, and he just looks…sad. _He shouldn’t be sad. He does not suit sadness._ “Why won’t you tell me anything, Seven? I already know you can’t tell me anything about your job, or what you and V talk about, or who that Unknown person was to you that made you act so weirdly after seeing him. But...don’t just keep your feelings inside. It’s unhealthy.”

He already knows that it’s unhealthy. All this time, he’s thought about it; but he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his emotions. Detachment. No personal connections.

It is so difficult to do when there’s someone like Yoosung in his life.

When he doesn’t say anything, Yoosung continues quietly, “I know…letting another person know how you’re feeling isn’t easy. I mean, I’ve had trouble expressing my frustration to V ever since…well, you know.” He gives a small smile. “That doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. Life is full of endless possibilities. Remember how I said that once? It’s true.” Yoosung stops talking for a minute, and instead of getting up and leaving—he should, I don’t deserve this, why is he still here—he scoots in even closer, close enough that their thighs are pressed up against each other and Seven can feel the warmth of his body.

Yoosung sighs softly. “If you’re ever alone, or feel like you’re in a dark place, I’ll lend you myself. You can lean on me anytime, cry on my shoulder until it’s wet with tears, tell me your stories so you’re not lonely anymore…anything. You’re my best friend,” he murmurs this last part to the ceiling, almost as if lost in thought. “I would do anything for you, Seven.”

His chest feels tight. How can Yoosung say all those things to him and mean it at the same time? If the sincerity shining in those eyes is indicative of anything, it’s that Yoosung’s every word is genuine. Real. He shivers again, but this time in gratitude instead of the heavy blanket of loneliness. Turning his face into Yoosung’s shoulder, his own shake in quiet tears. “…thank you…” he manages to choke out. From his position, he’s positive that Yoosung is smiling, and he feels the beginnings of his heart lightening its burden.

“Don’t worry, Seven. I’ll be here.”


End file.
